Author: Andrew Sullivan

Paul Cassell discusses how the criminal justice system is exploring a three-participant model of trials in which the victim is allowed to pursue a case against the defendant alongside the state:

I have … heard defense attorneys argue against victim participation by claiming that this is ganging up on the defendant — double counting the prosecution’s view by adding in the victim’s view.  Here again, that’s not quite right.  While victims often are aligned with prosecutors, other times they may align with defense attorneys.  Victims’ interests are not necessarily the same as prosecutors’ interests.  Indeed, restitution may be an area where victims and defendants could make common cause.  While prosecutors focus on long prison terms, victims are often worried about receiving compensation for their injuries.  Victims might prefer, for example, a sentence under which the defendant is placed on work release and can make payments towards restitution instead of one that simply locks him up and throws away the key.

Andrew Cohen highlights a case whether the prosecutor is at odds with a murder victim’s family:

The last time [Edward] Montour faced trial for [Eric] Autobee’s death, the victim’s family supported the death penalty as an option. Not this time. This time, having educated themselves about capital punishment, and better understanding the nature of Montour’s mental illness at the time of Eric’s death, the Autobees have been vocally, stridently, ceaselessly against the imposition of death in this case. Earlier this month, for example, as potential jurors in the Montour case were lined up outside the courthouse waiting to learn about the case for which they were summoned, the Autobees picketed the line and pleaded with Brauchler to spare their son’s killer.

Episodes like this — and the media attention they inevitably generated — prompted [George] Brauchler, the prosecutor in the Montour case, to remove the family  from his preliminary list of witnesses to be called during the sentencing of the case. And that removal, in turn, has prompted Montour’s attorneys to ask the trial judge in the case to allow the Autobees to testify during sentencing. That prompted an aggressive response from Brauchler, arguing that Colorado’s victims’ rights laws don’t apply to “mitigating” factors during sentencing but only to “aggravating factors.” And that is where we stand today.

Unlike our reader, Paul Berman reflects on Pete Seeger’s unsavory politics in his early years:

“If I Had a Hammer,” which he composed, is immortal. I do not know if people will be singing “If I Had a Hammer” a hundred years from now, but they would be fools not to do so. “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?“—this is magnificent. Those songs, with their crowd-sourcing capacity, are tremendously moving. And yet, if you can persuade crowds of people that simple morality and a childlike vision of right and wrong can be summed up in a few phrases, there is nothing you cannot achieve, and some of what you might achieve could turn out to be disastrous in the extreme—e.g., Stalin’s idea of dividing up the world with Hitler.

So it is good to remember that Pete Seeger, in his younger years, entertained some foolish and reactionary ideas. The appreciation of his errors can introduce a note of reflective irony into your excited response to his songs in favor of the civil rights revolution, and generally his songs in favor of the causes of democratic equality and rational reflection.

Moynihan is less forgiving:

[A]s the encomiums threaten to overwhelm, it’s important to remember that Seeger, once an avowed Stalinist, was a political singer once devoted to a sinister political system–a position he held long after the Soviet experiment drenched itself in blood and collapsed in ignominy.

So while we wistfully recall the foot-stomping versions of This Land is Your Land, let us not forget Seeger’s musical assaults on the supposedly warmongering F.D.R. (see the justly forgotten Ballad of October 16th, which was featured on a record presciently released on the very day the Nazi-Soviet Pact collapsed. As Moscow instantly shifted its position from fascist accommodationism to fighting what it had previously denounced as a war for big business, Seeger and his fellow folkies in the Almanac Singers recalled the record and retooled their allegiances. It was soon replaced by a series of pro-war, pro-F.D.R. songs. Art must be used in service of the people—and is always subject to the vicissitudes of the party line.

In a 1999 interview, Seeger explained how his relationship to communism had changed:

I’m still a Communist in the sense I don’t believe the world will survive with the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. I think that the pressures will get so tremendous, if they’re not already that big, that the social contract will just come apart. On the other hand I’m no longer a member of the Communist Party, as I was in the 1940s. It was very sad to see the enthusiasm of the people in Russia who in those days thought we are going to create a new society, and how their dreams just came apart. There’s more socialism in America and around the world today than most people realize. The GI Bill was basically socialism. Public education is basically socialism. You might consider that all armies are basically socialist organizations.

But, despite his dedication to the proletarian cause, Seeger was a millionaire:

Seeger was exceedingly generous with both his money and his time. Thanks to this war on his own wealth, Seeger escaped inclusion in the infamous “1 percent” (a good thing, too, given that he was active in the Occupy Wall Street protests). But he was dangerously, perilously close: a recent estimate of his net worth pegged it at $4.2 million, putting him just a couple million shy of that infamous percentile. This accumulation of wealth may have been his greatest failure — perhaps his only failure. The man who sang at hobo camps, labor halls and at union rallies just couldn’t stop making money. An accidental entrepreneur and unwitting capitalist, Seeger was, despite his best efforts, the quintessential American success story.

Seeger, like other successful musicians of his era, also profited from the work of black songwriters:

His first major group, the Weavers, had a hit with their recording of “Goodnight, Irene,” the folk standard that Huddie Ledbetter, better known as Lead Belly, first recorded. (They also recorded “Wimoweh,” a mishearing of ““Mbube,” first recorded by the South African musician Solomon Popoli Linda.) Some contemporary reviews noted that the Weavers had made a song about suicide and romantic disappointment more palatable for a mass audience by eliminating some of Lead Belly’s lyrics, but the song went to number one and stayed there for thirteen weeks. In the version of the song I’ve linked to here, the groups works an acknowledgement of their debt to Ledbetter into their performance, and notes that he died before the song he originated became a national sensation. It’s a poignant illustration that the difficult conversations about race, credit, and art that occur today have been a feature of the American cultural landscape for sixty-five years.

Adam Garfinkle has mixed feelings about the man, but credits him for the enduring cultural impact of the protest song:

When you come right down to it, what Seeger did, probably without knowing it, was to devise a kind of new-age folk religion out of musical protest rituals. What he did made people feel good, made them feel like a part of something larger than themselves at a time when traditional means of religious communal expression weren’t working so well. The merging of environmental consciousness into the older leftist portfolio was almost too good to be true for this purpose: Lenin plus Gaia equaled countercultural nirvana. It was fine for most never to get beyond the lyrical slogans to the second paragraph of any thought about a political topic—that just wasn’t the point. Communal singing is a very powerful form of human celebration that creates and sustains spiritual connectedness; if you don’t realize that, it means you’ve never been involved in it. For all I know it probably has health benefits as well.

Josh Marshall examines Seeger’s influence on folk music and everything it touched:

One little nugget: It was Seeger who changed the cardinal lyric from “We will overcome” to “We shall overcome”, which he said “opened the song up.” And if you sing it to yourself you can hear how it does. A tiny little thing, far tinier than most of his achievements. But another of these little centralities. If you look back at the fabric of folk music and 30s labor radicalism, the civil rights movement and modern environmentalism, you see that if you pull the Seeger thread from it the fabric doesn’t quite fall apart but it’s simply not the same.

Jack Hamilton highlights Seeger’s stance against McCarthyism:

In 1955 Seeger was called before the House Un-American Activities Committee and refused to name names. “I will tell you about my songs,” he declared, “but I am not interested in telling you who wrote them, and I will tell you about my songs, and I am not interested in who listened to them.”

This is an extraordinary and brilliant statement, one that turns the inherent democracy and availability of folk music into a clarion call of moral righteousness. Seeger would ultimately be indicted and convicted for contempt of Congress, though his conviction was overturned in 1962. Of the many great things one can say about Pete Seeger, this might be the best: When the country he loved did its best to destroy him, he loved it too much to let it.

Update from a reader:

Okay, so the day after Seeger dies, you post links to three pieces that highlight his ties to communism as a young man. I guess when taking the measure of his 94 years-his activism in the labor and civil rights movements, his testimony before HUAC, or his work on the environment- that’s what you thought was most notable. Fair enough (except, Moynihan, really?). Now, I’ll admit that my economic politics might be closer to Seeger’s than to yours (the same could probably be said for your new crush Pope Francis), but that’s not what bothered me. What bothered me is that the post seemed the result of a google search of “Seeger + communist.” It seemed pretty lazy, as a matter of fact. If you weren’t going to give him a fair (read: balanced) shake, I can’t understand why you acknowledged his death at all, except for the fact that it led a lot of other news outlets? And to focus so narrowly on one aspect of his earlier life, on the day after he died, seemed a bit sensational to me, an attempt at contrarian “edginess.” He was, before all else, a musician, who made a huge contribution to the preservation of traditional folk music in America. Oh, and I can assure you that he hurt far fewer, and helped far more, than Ken Mehlman.

Your caritas for people, as you call it, seems to be increasingly selective. Please cancel my subscription.

How Morrissey understands Rick Perry mellowing his stance:

The issue here isn’t moral signals, but political signals. Marijuana is about the only issue left that will energize college-age and graduate voters, especially now that they’re getting a good look at the costs associated with ObamaCare. Perry’s approach is a good model for Republicans — defuse the issue with both a not-total-legalization policy married to federalism that gets Washington out of the mix on the issue. That’s enough to dilute the impact of the inevitable “evolution” that will come later this year when Democrats get desperate for campaign energy.

Chuck Schumer, like the president, also sounds more and more like a federalist on the issue. Sullum wants this federalism written into law:

[I]f Obama truly believes “it’s important” that states have the leeway to try different approaches to marijuana, why not codify that policy? The Respect State Marijuana Laws Act, introduced last spring by Rep. Dana Rohrabacher (R-Calif.), would do just that by declaring that the provisions of the Controlled Substances Act dealing with cannabis “shall not apply to any person acting in compliance with state laws.” By supporting this bill, Obama could show he is serious about letting states go their own way on marijuana without abandoning his broad view of the federal government’s powers. Republicans could appeal to younger voters—two-thirds of whom support legalization, according to a 2013 Gallup poll—while remaining faithful to a principle they claim to uphold.

Plumer outlines what’s in the $956 billion farm bill that the House passed today. It’s mostly food stamps and other nutrition programs:

$756 billion over 10 years ($8 billion less than existing law). This is by far the biggest part of farm policy, with the bulk taken up by the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, which helps low-income families pay for food. House Republicans and Senate Democrats have long wrangled over how to modify this program. The Senate wanted to slightly tweak some of the rules governing eligibility and cut just $4 billion from existing law. The House wanted to put in place much stronger restrictions on who could get food stamps and cut $40 billion from current law. The Senate mostly won this fight. The compromise bill will cut $8 billion over 10 years.

Chris Edwards urges reporters not to call it a “cut”:

[T]he 2014 farm bill is not a cut at all when compared to the 2008 farm bill, which was projected to cost $640 billion over 10 years. That is a 49 percent spending increase. Sure, the new bill shuffles the farm subsidy deck chairs, but the bill’s main budget attribute is that it ratifies the huge recent increase in food stamp spending. The House bill had proposed trimming a modest $39 billion (5 percent) from food stamps, but Republican leaders caved in and agreed to just a token 1 percent trim in the final bill.

Daren Bakst is disappointed that the GOP caved on food stamp reform:

One loophole, known as broad-based categorical eligibility, allows people to receive food stamps even if they have a million dollars in the bank.  There’s no asset test, so in theory, an individual could have unlimited assets and still receive food stamps.  This absurd loophole should be closed.  To its credit, the House did close the loophole in its bill.  Then, the House negotiators folded when it came to the conference bill.  If this loophole were closed, taxpayers would have saved about $12 billion.

Erika Eichelberger, however, says the Republicans won the food stamp battle:

Here’s why the compromise level of cuts is a Republican win: In addition to the $9 billion in food stamp cuts in this five-year farm bill, another $11 billion will be slashed over three years as stimulus funding for the program expires. The first $5 billion of that stimulus money expired in October; the rest will disappear by 2016. In the months since the first $5 billion in stimulus funding was cut, food pantries have been struggling to provide enough food for the hungry. Poverty remains at record high levels, and three job applicants compete for every job opening.

And yet, despite the $5 billion in cuts that already happened and the guarantee of $6 billion more, Republicans succeeded in getting their Democratic peers to cut food stamps further. This is the first time in history that a Democratic Senate has even proposed cutting the program. Now the upper chamber is expected to pass cuts twice the level it approved last year.

Robert Greenstein downplays the impact of the SNAP cuts:

The SNAP cut that remains is a provision to tighten an element of the SNAP benefit calculation that some states have converted into what most people would view as a loophole.  Specifically, some states are stretching the benefit formula in a way that enables them not only to simplify paperwork for many SNAP households, but also to boost SNAP benefits for some SNAP households by assuming those households pay several hundred dollars a month in utility costs that they do not actually incur.  Congress did not intend for states to stretch the benefit rules this way, and longstanding SNAP supporters like myself find it difficult to defend.  Moreover, a future Administration could close off this use of the rules administratively, without any congressional action.

Two-thirds of states do not use the current rules this way, and no SNAP beneficiaries in these states are expected to lose any benefits under this provision.  Across the other one-third of states, CBO estimates that 88 to 89 percent of beneficiaries would remain untouched, while 11 to 12 percent would remain eligible for SNAP but face a benefit reduction because their state has used this practice to boost their benefits above what they would otherwise be.

Pierce is characteristically apoplectic:

How, precisely, does this particular bill help “businesses create jobs”? Almost a million people will have less money to spend on luxuries like heat and food. That doesn’t help you if you’re creating jobs in grocery stores or selling heating oil. Teachers will have to cope with dozing, hungry children while their unemployed parents try very hard not to yawn their way through job interviews. But the Republicans didn’t get absolutely everything they wanted, and the Democrats agreed to cut twice what they’d proposed, and the deal was struck among people who never will feel its real effects, and that’s the way things are supposed to work in this great Republic of ours.

Kilgore’s take:

The bill will probably get through the Senate next week with solid Democratic support; most of the food stamp cuts, it appears, will mainly be taken from the hide of beneficiaries that the states qualified via the “heat and eat” maneuver (giving them token heating assistance that automatically made them SNAP-eligible). A WaPo editorial recently called “heat and eat” a “political gift to SNAP’s perennial opponents,” and I tend to agree. But Lord knows we are living at a time when in case of doubt, you might want to just feed people.

Michael D. Tanner homes in on the agricultural subsidies, which he calls “pure corporate welfare”:

After all, while no one would deny that farming can be a difficult and sometimes precarious way of life, farmers generally are not suffering. In 2013 the average farm household had an income of $104,525. In 2011, the most recent year a direct comparison is available, farm-household incomes were 25 percent higher than the average for all U.S. households, and this gap has only increased since. Moreover, much farm aid goes not to small family farms but to giant agri-business. Among the biggest recipients of farm subsidies are Tysons Food, Pilgrim’s Pride, and Riceland Foods, none of which are likely to be the subject of a Lifetime TV movie anytime soon. In fact, roughly a third of subsidies in the last farm bill went to the wealthiest 4 percent of farmers.

Update from a reader, who adds his four cents:

As a person whose job it is to help eligible individuals sign up for SNAP (Food Stamps) in Pennsylvania, I am decidedly not elated about the apparent cuts coming down the line to the program. I was further displeased when I read some of the reactions to the proposed bill that demonstrated just how little some of the commentators seemed to know about the program. However, there are two things that I’d like to focus on, asset testing and categorical eligibility, that were brought up by Darren Bakst.

Categorical eligibility is a small provision of the SNAP program that allows states to designate that people who meet certain requirements can qualify for the program at higher incomes than others. Because this feature has absolutely no effect on the underlying formula used to determine how much a given applicant will receive in benefits, what this means is that elderly and disabled individuals with low incomes that are nonetheless significantly above the poverty level can qualify for the minimum benefit. In PA, this minimum benefit is $15/month, hardly a windfall to vulnerable seniors. Further, in some rare cases where seniors and the disabled are paying exorbitant out-of-pocket medical costs, they may find a much needed lifeline in SNAP and may qualify for significantly more than the minimum.

As to asset testing, this is the most useless and inane aspect of SNAP I’ve ever seen. SNAP currently doesn’t require asset testing because my state originally convinced the government of how dumb an idea it was, but Governor “gay marriage = incest” Corbett re-instituted the test to try and reduce imagined fraud (there’s a higher percentage of PA legislators convicted of corruption charges in the past 3 years than fraud rates). So now, in PA, if you have more than $5,500 in “assets”, or $9,000 if you’re a senior, you don’t qualify for benefits. “Assets” include: checking and savings account balances, stocks and bonds (though not retirement accounts), burial plots, funeral agreements, and any owned vehicles after the first, among others.

While this doesn’t matter for the overwhelming majority of applicants except as needless extra paperwork, in practical terms asset testing means kicking seniors and formerly-middle class families in need of assistance off the program when they need it most. Were you a middle class family that had bought a second car before the breadwinners lost their jobs? Too bad, moocher, go get in the pantry line that will give you 5-days (best case) worth of food for your family. Are you a senior that has a bank account with $10,000 in it to cover your burial and final expenses when you die? Better spend yourself into destitution before you even think about applying, you “taker”.

Asset testing is cruel, and stupid, and useless, and does nothing to combat the actual fraud people complain about – mainly those who sell their benefits to others for cash. One way to fix this problem might be to get rid of EBT cards and instead use state drivers’ licenses and photo IDs (hear that voter ID fans?) as the benefit cards, since applicants already have to submit that information to apply, they probably won’t give their ID to others, and it removes some of the stigma attached to EBT cards. Too bad all of this stuff is just about scaring people away from applying.

Michael Brendan Dougherty dismisses Santorum’s plans to seek the presidency again:

Rick Santorum is a political stiff whose entire 2016 campaign is premised on a historical accident: He was the last clown out of the anti-Romney clown car in 2012. His last statewide election in Pennsylvania was a 59–41 percent disaster for him, a politician swallowed up whole by the anti-Bush, anti–Iraq War wave of discontent.

On the campaign trail, Santorum’s true conviction is often his most unappealing feature. He believes so much in the power of his reasoning and in the truth of his conclusions, that he often attempts to argue his hecklers into agreeing with him. In town-hall environments he becomes the caffeinated leader of your college’s Henry Newman Center, debating theology with you until you fall asleep. He gives people the uncomfortable impression that he doesn’t possess ideas, but that his ideas possess him.

Larison sees little room for moralists like Santorum in today’s GOP:

I don’t know why Santorum would want to run again, but if he does he will find a party that is increasingly uninterested in or openly opposed to many of the things he has to say.

I’m not referring to his views on social issues, but to his blatant hostility to anything remotely libertarian on virtually every other kind of issue. Santorum remains a holdover from a time when some Republicans were proud to identify as supporters of an activist and growing government, he seems to have a visceral loathing for libertarians in the party, and he is arguably the most hawkish politician likely to run in 2016. In the next election, he would be running for the nomination of a party that has become considerably more libertarian, more skeptical of government, and less inclined to intervene militarily overseas. Santorum is the embodiment of all the things that many on the right have disliked about the GOP over the last fifteen years, and he is personally abrasive enough that he manages to make all of his favorite causes less appealing than they might otherwise be.

Savage laughs, but he isn’t letting down his guard:

Rick Santorum is a joke, I realize. My readers helped to make him one. But Ronald Reagan was a joke in 1965 when Tom Leher recorded “George Murphy.” If we don’t want the joke to be on us, we had better pay attention to—and continue to heap mockery upon—the joke that is Rick Santorum.

A reader veers from the dissenters:

I’m a member of the Pennsylvania Bar Association’s Lawyers’ Assistance Committee. Our job is to help attorneys and law students with alcoholism, drug addiction (prescription and otherwise), mental health issue and gambling addictions. We get some pretty fucked-up cases: lawyers who shown up in court drunk or high, lawyers who’ve tampered with escrow accounts – pretty much anything you can think of, we’ve seen it. We get lawyers who have been suspended, disbarred, who’ve done state and federal time. And, whenever we can, we try to help them turn their lives around and help them become honorable members of the Pennsylvania Bar again. And, pretty frequently, we do. We see lawyers capable of great, profound changes.

The situation that Glass presents isn’t an easy one. I’ll grant you it’s a close case. And yes, the NY State Bar application discrepancies are troubling. But recovery and change isn’t a straight, unyielding line. People don’t just enter therapy or rehab and come out all sparkly and new. It’s tough work. But people do it. My colleagues all throughout Pennsylvania have done it. The lawyers who have watched him and supervised him for over a decade, and the doctors that have treated him, reached the conclusion that he could be trusted. I’ve seen people earn the shot at redemption. Stephen Glass has earned his. I’d give him the shot.

Another:

So, the California Bar won’t let Stephen Glass in, but they’re happy to keep Orly Taitz.  Right.

Another has “mixed feelings”:

On the one hand, I do believe in redemption, second chances, and the idea that a person shouldn’t pay forever for what they’ve done wrong. On the other hand, unless we are prepared to jettison the “character and fitness” component of the bar, why doesn’t this make sense? This is a person who has demonstrated, time and time again, that he is morally and ethically challenged – much more so than a person who has committed petty offenses or who has a drug conviction, in my opinion, but someone who literally cannot be trusted to tell the truth.

I think it’s important to understand just how committed to ethics the legal profession is. Despite the nasty jokes about lying, scumbag lawyers (and sure, every profession has their share of jerks), the law is one of the few professions with seriously high ethical and moral standards that all practitioners are required to meet.

Did you know that, at least in my state, it is considered a violation of legal ethics rules to not report a colleague who themselves has committed a violation? Did you know that an honest accounting mistake that results in loss to no clients and that is immediately corrected can result in the attorney losing his or her license to practice? This shit is no joke. So that quote from the NYT is not about “the pecking order”; it’s simply about the seriousness of ethics to the legal profession. I think it’s completely reasonable to pose the question: if we do not trust this individual to tell us the truth when he relays information, we do not trust him to be a lawyer!

And your comment about whether or not the inverse would be true? Well, I quite likely think it would be, if the nature of the ethical offense was relevant to journalism, as it is relevant here to law. An editor might not care if an applicant for a job at her news site had accidentally commingled funds in the past or failed to properly maintain contact with a client, but she would probably care if she learned that the applicant had, as a lawyer, wholesale fabricated evidence and repeatedly lied under oath.

Another lawyer:

This story does shed some light on the way you apply for the bar and how it can seem somewhat arbitrary. One state delayed a friend’s bar admission because she had listed on her background check that she took an antidepressant. The state bar wanted her to get a doctor to write that she was not a risk for her clients. None of her doctors knew what that meant, so they did not want to sign off on it. After much haggling and negotiation and letter-writing, they eventually admitted her.

Meanwhile, all the untreated depressed lawyers you know out there sailed through the process because they did not have to disclose the medications they should be taking. Another friend had to justify his debt load because he had been in a bad real-estate deal a while back, but unlike the Bob McDonnells of the world, he didn’t take bribes to cover it up. This kind of thing is not unheard of in the bar admissions process, and while Glass may have a high profile case, he is not the only one to be unjustly denied bar admission for something that people outside the profession may find silly. This case just gets added to the list of reasons for why the bar admission process needs adjustments.

Another goes deep into the debate:

I’m a law school graduate myself, so my opinions on this matter will obviously be colored by my own educational and life experiences. And it’s not that I don’t think that Glass deserves a second chance. I’m still ambivalent on that question, and I can empathize with both sides. What I really can’t STAND, though, is the smug condescension dripping from David Plotz’s post, which can be summarized as thus: more so than journalists, lawyers are dishonest and immoral and have an undeservedly high opinion of themselves, so it’s hypocritical that they won’t let Glass be one of them. In fact, Glass will probably make an even better lawyer than most because everyone, knowing his work history, is going to be watching him more closely anyway!

I don’t find these sorts of arguments to be helpful. First of all, yes, many lawyers are in fact dishonest and unethical pricks. Many escape the discipline and the disbarment they deserve (hello, Jay Bybee). None of that, however, means that the profession as a whole ought to drop the standards for entry, and Plotz makes no convincing argument for why this should be the case. Even if we accept his snide comments about the general superciliousness and immorality of lawyers, the obvious solution to that is to tighten the standards. Admit more honest attorneys; work even harder to keep out the ones who have proven themselves to be untrustworthy people.

And I’m not saying that an attorney’s work is any more “important” to society than a journalist’s, but Plotz is seriously underplaying the consequences of admitting bad apples here. You can argue that a dishonest lawyer who deceives his client is going to fuck up that individual client’s life on a far deeper and more profound level than a negative “lingering impact” on public perceptions of politics and race would.

Furthermore, Plotz fails to address the court’s finding that Glass’ deceptions and lack of remorse extended far beyond that mid-’90s period when he was churning out fabricated pieces. A huge part of the court’s decision was based on the fact that he continued to obfuscate his editors’ efforts to uncover all his deceptions well after the fraud had been discovered, misrepresented the extent of his cooperation on his New York bar application in 2002, failed to “full identif[y] his fabrications until the California bar proceedings” in 2007, and, even then, mischaracterized “the defects in his New York bar application.”

Pro-tip: As much as the bar frowns upon your lying to your employers and the general public, the bar hates it even more when you lie to it. To put this in legal terms, the “statute of limitations” on his misdeeds didn’t just start running once “nearly 20 years ago,” as Plotz says. Rather, the deception and lack of remorse California is so concerned about renewed itself each time that he failed to be completely forthcoming about his lies. Given that Glass had multiple chances to come fully clean and set the record straight – and did not do so – the court’s conclusion isn’t nearly as “bizarre and backward” as Plotz makes it sound.

Finally, I’ll end by responding to Bmaz’s post: Shon Hopwood’s story is indeed a touching one about second chances, but the analogy is imperfect. Hopwood does not need to be a member of a state bar in order to clerk, since clerks do not actually represent a client or argue in a court of law. (Glass himself clerked after law school, and if he wanted to do it again and a judge in California wanted to hire him, there is absolutely nothing that would stop him from doing so.) Now, I imagine that when the time does come for Hopwood to actually apply for admission to a bar, he will face much less opposition than Glass has, and this will be because (1) Hopwood served out his sentence in prison, so there is a perception that he has “paid his dues” to society, and (2) Hopwood did not spend years after the crime obfuscating and misrepresenting what had happened. Bmaz’s focus on the severity of the underlying offense (armed robbery vs. internet lies) as a barometer for deserved redemption seems misguided when you consider, again, that the California Supreme Court’s main concern was remorse.